The Long Road
by brightspark
Summary: On Seifer's return to Garden, he finds something extremely unwelcome is happening to Squall. Annoyed and a little scared, Seifer does his best to help Squall on the road to recovery. Hiatus for lack of inspiration.


A while ago, someone asked me for more of anorexic Squall – for a longer fic dealing with Squall and his anorexia. I roleplay as that exact angsty Squall in an alternate universe where they never left the Orphanage, so the thought delighted me, especially as I don't get to play with fetishboy enough for my liking. This isn't fetishboy, by the way, since he never went to Garden and his reasons for anorexia are different.

That said, anorexia is a horrible subject to deal with, more so for those who have had it touch their lives as deeply and painfully as I have. While you can feel free to criticise my writing, please don't make negative comments about anorexics. It attacks even the strongest and most beautiful of people and there is _nobody_ who can confidently say they will never be anorexic. It is a disease and it doesn't pick just a certain type of people to attack.

So, here we go.

**The Long Road**

"Leonhart!"

There was a moment of confused surprise before Squall turned, the familiar voice tugging at something inside him in a near painful manner, surprise at seeing _him_ there parting his lips. "Almasy? What are you - ?"

"This is my home," Seifer shrugged, smirking at the surprise on Squall's face, secretly pleased to see him again, eyes raking up and down. "You think they'd keep me away from here for long?"

There was a pause, and then Squall just shrugged, apparently uncaring. "Don't cause me any trouble."

"Of course not, _Commander_," Seifer replied in a voice that dripped sarcasm. His eyes narrowed though, and he straightened a little in surprise and perhaps a little anger. "What have they done to you? No, wait, I know you. _You've_ been working yourself this hard, not them. Leonhart, you look like shit."

Squall was surprised at the warmth of the concern in Seifer's voice. He just turned his back and started in the direction of his office. He wasn't hungry, anyway. He could avoid the cafeteria and all other places where he was likely to bump into his former rival. Seifer wasn't going to let him go so easily though, an easy stride or two catching up with him and a strong, rough hand grabbing his arm.

"Shit, Leonhart, you're as thin as a fucking rake, you can't be eating properly. Have you had lunch?"

"Let go of me," he hissed, yanking his hand free, hurrying his pace a little.

"Not until you answer my questions, damn it. You look like a fucking wreck." Seifer put a hand on Squall's shoulder, spinning him round and holding him there, looking down into his eyes. There was no smirk or even the trace of one on his face for once. "_Squall,_" he whispered, his voice heavy with some emotion that Squall didn't want to analyse too closely.

"Let go," he said again, more weakly, not jerking himself away as quickly as usual.

"Come and eat something, and talk with me, and I'll consider it," Seifer said, straightening to his full height. Demanding as always. Squall knew that he would get his way unless he got away right now.

He reached up and grabbed Seifer's hand, forcing him to release his grip and then practically throwing Seifer's arm from him. "Leave me alone," he said, trying to make himself as icy and emotionless as possible. "I am Commander of this Garden, _cadet_, and you're under my command."

That reminder left Seifer almost speechless, and motionless for long moments as he watched Squall's too skinny figure retreating down the hallway away from the cafeteria.

"Almasy!"

"Chickenwuss!" Despite his worry over Squall, Seifer was genuinely glad to see Zell. Or at least, genuinely amused to see him and resolving to piss him off as much as possible. "They let me out, finally. Officially pardoned and all. How're you? Hatched any chicks yet?"

"I don't want to think about the implications of that too hard," Zell muttered, jaw clenched.

"Wow, I'm impressed, chicky, you've learnt to control that temper of yours."

"Don't push it."

"Nah, I'm not an idiot. I only just got back here," Seifer frowned a little, wondering what Zell knew about Squall. "Hey, Dincht, much as I hate to ask for help from you... Do you have any idea what's wrong with Squall?"

Zell frowned, "He's my best friend."

"And?"

"So of course I fucking know, but I don't see why I should tell you."

Seifer shrugged, wondering why he ever asked. Should've known chicky wasn't going to help. "Fine, I get it, you're not going to tell me because I was all mister bad guy just a few months ago. It's cool."

Zell bit his lip. Seifer wondered at how restrained and... fuck, how _grown up_ chicky had become. "Look, I have no idea why it fucking matters to you, but he's depressed. He barely even touches Lionheart anymore. Just works all day. All fucking day."

He frowned a little. "What the fuck does _he_ have to be depressed about?"

Zell's glare was oddly fierce. The little punk certainly had got some guts. "Like I'm going to tell you. But for once, maybe you antagonising him might be a good idea. He might come to his senses. But if you hurt him..." Fists clenched, and the chicken hopped from foot to foot in a fighting stance, just like he used to.

"You're no help."

"If you want to know what's wrong with him so bad, try _asking_ him. But that would require you to be a good guy and _not_ the person who scarred his face permanently like that." Zell grinned, "See you around, loser."

Seifer resisted the urge to beat the crap out of Dincht. That _word_ pissed him off more than any other. He had _never_ lost before, and this time was no different. He had been controlled, it wasn't like he'd been able to decide on strategy.

But he had a strategy now. The objective of his mission? Find out what the _fuck_ was wrong with Leonhart.

---

"Breakfast is served," Seifer said, as cheerfully as he could, kicking open the door to Squall's office. He winced slightly at that. Probably not a good move when for once he was _trying_ not to piss Squall off. "Make some room on that desk of yours, I brought you something."

Squall opened his mouth, looking up at Seifer with more than a little annoyance, but the only thing that managed to get from his brain and come out of his mouth was, "I'm not hungry."

"Look, I haven't poisoned it," Seifer rolled his eyes. "It's good food. You look so funny skinny it makes _me_ feel hungry."

"I'm not hungry."

"Sure you are. Eat up. Or do I get to force feed you?" Seifer's smirk suggested that he wouldn't mind doing that at all. He locked eyes with Squall, and after a moment, seeing confusion and anger in his eyes, rolled his own and reached for the food. "Fine, whatever, waste the food. I don't give a damn. But you aren't throwing me out."

"I've got work to do, Seifer," Squall sighed softly, running a hand through his hair.

Seifer looked at him and nodded slightly, noting the paper thinness of his skin, nothing more than a membrane holding bones and muscles and guts together. He noted the bones standing out and the hollow cheeks, and his heart ached uncontrollably. "I know. You've always got work to do."

"Why are you here?"

"I'm worried about you," he said softly, looking down at the floor, his words painfully honest. "Chickenwuss said that you're depressed, but he wouldn't tell me why. What's wrong with you, Leonhart?"

"Don't call him Chickenwuss," Squall said, simply, ignoring the rest of it and reaching for a pen, reading through the first paper on the pile as if nothing else in the world could interest him.

"Why, gonna tell on me and let him kick my ass?" Seifer raised an eyebrow.

"It's annoying."

"Aww, that's right, you and chickie are best buddies now."

"Don't start, Seifer. I don't have the energy to kick your ass."

Squall sounded tired. Dead tired. He looked worse. Seifer snorted, wishing he could really laugh at this. But he didn't quite think that would be appropriate with Squall looking like living death. "Squally boy, I wouldn't let you fight me when you look like a walking skeleton given skin."

"I look _fine_, why do people keep saying that?" he rolled his eyes.

Seifer's eyes narrowed. "Squall, you look like shit."

"I look the same as always."

"Sure, you were skinny before the war, but not _skeletal_. Not like this. Squall... fuck, what's wrong with you? Can I help you? Is there anything I can do?" Seifer bit his lip, wishing he could beg Squall to eat, drag him out of his office, scar his face again if it was what it took for him to care and _do_ something about it. Even getting Lionheart shoved in his face would be better than the way Squall was acting now.

"Get the fuck out."

"Squall - "

"_Get the fuck out_."

Seifer did as he was told.


End file.
